Drip-Fed

The next morning, the party went out for shopping.

Summerdawn as a recognized, civilized territory was a recent phenomenon. Adventurers had been using the specific area as a safe haven in the wilderness for two generations. Only in the last twenty years had that reached the concentration and reliability to be called an actual settlement. Since then, things had expanded, but slowly. The only reason why one would want to be in Summerdawn was the proximity to Chimerion and the Vaults of Lightning.

That made the population density even thinner than that of Drowse, already quite scarcely populated compared to more settled Leaves. That population was made of generally sterner stuff, however. That went for the adventurers and the craftsmen who had made it up to Summerdawn.

For every ten adventurers who had the ambition to reach a higher level of power, there was one crafter who wanted their weapons to be used by such ascending adventurers. Such crafters had three choices in life. First, they could retain their independence, at best joining a guild for the connections, and take the freedom of forging only the best they could make with the consequence of a less available customer base. Second, they could become an associate of an Adventurer’s Guild Chapter, giving them a steady stream of contracts in exchange for following that Chapter wherever it went. Thirdly, the crafters could hybridize, sacrificing time in the workshop to join an active party, making them weaker members of a group that got highly experienced in maintaining and upgrading the gear of their specific party.

The third path was the least popular. Parties did not much like it because that person would always be a weaker member. The Crafters did not like it either, because they fell behind their peers. It took a very specific arrangement and party set-up to be worthwhile for everyone involved. Option one and two were about the same in commonality.

In all cases, such crafters were pulled to where the action was out of necessity and ambition and when there was a regularly scheduled expedition about to take place, well, then even those that usually served a broader customer base may find themselves chasing an opportunity for high-grade work.

The Inevitable Party woke up the next morning to a tent city having sprouted up next to the modest settlement the Adventurer’s Guild was located in. A town of no more than 500 people had swelled to twice that size. Besides the crafters, there were many traders that had made it across in caravans to sell their wares to the expedition.

“That’s interesting.” Korith said as she scanned a massive chalkboard. It was located behind a ring of large tables, serving as the centre of the auctioning efforts of the market. Generally, there were two kinds of deals being made. Small scale and specialized transactions were made between stall owners and their customers. When it came to larger deals, they were best facilitated via the auction. A trader who arrived with 100 healing potions could just put them out to the auction at a set price and then leave to do other deals as they were sold off. It was more convenient for everyone that way.

“What is?” Apexus wanted to know. To him, the numbers on the chalkboard meant fairly little. Math had never been his strong suit. He was capable of using numbers in directly practical ways, but the giant list of stock available and price ranges were doing nothing for him.

“Kinda expected prices to be higher here,” the kobold said and kept scanning the list. “The expedition should create a demand spike. Seems like the regularity of them has reached the local economy, though, so the supply roughly keeps up with it and prices normalize. Some items are a little more costly, some items are a little cheaper, but it’s not going past 20% in either direction.” She turned her head to the side. “Exception being the live services.”

About fifteen metres away from the auctioning space, a large smithy was currently occupied by twenty men and women of the profession. Armour and weaponry were constantly getting worked on. The market had barely been open for an hour and already all of the blacksmiths were drenched in sweat. Several more were sitting on the sidelines, waiting for their turn. Because a forge was such a specific construction to have, only the locals or exceptionally rich smiths had their own building. The same held true for most other crafting varieties.

Armour could be stockpiled, but armour could not be adjusted to a perfect size in advance. Time was the truly limited commodity in this market. Any last-minute repair or adjustment jobs were therefore at a premium. A premium that adventurers were willing to pay for reasons of utility and vanity. No one wanted to die but, even more pressing for a lot of people, no one wanted to be the guy who had to be left behind due to a wardrobe malfunction. If Hans the Holy stumbled over his laces while leading the charge with his fellow Paladins, he’d never hear the end of it.

The party was in no need of such repairs. Korith kept scanning the auction board to get a feel for the local prices. Bartering was alive and well. The haggling started around the price that the good in question could likely be bought for at the auction that day (or hour, depending on the volatility of the market). Knowing that price was half the battle against getting ripped off.

The other half was knowing what they needed.

“So, what’s our list?” Reysha asked and turned to Aclysia.

The guardian angel thought back to the talks they had last night and this morning. Rather than waste paper, she had kept the answers to that in her reliable memory. “Of absolute importance are four Healing Potions, a Warding Glyph, and a Stink Bag.”

Healing Potions were the self-explanatory baseline of every adventurer’s consumable toolkit. No one wanted to be caught with a flesh wound when they got separated from the party or the healer ran out of mana.

The Warding Glyph existed to temporarily boost the defences of a person, typically by hardening their armour. Varieties existed but the rule of thumb was that any such glyph expired faster the more area they covered and they did not last for long to begin with.

The Stink Bag was another highly useful item, if only in specific situations. There was such a thing as a Return Crystal, which allowed those who used it to return to the entrance of the dungeon. Such items were exceptionally rare, however. For everyone else who wanted to book it, the Stink Bag was the best option. Filled with a particular blend of alchemically manipulated plants, the Stink Bag, once ignited, exuded a horrid aroma.

To humanoid noses, the odour was disgusting, thus the name. To dungeon monsters, the burning herbs released a specific kind of mana particle that they associated with the structure itself telling them not to go there. Many dungeons shifted, sometimes violently, and all monsters had signals to avoid getting caught ingrained in their instincts. Thus, when such a bag was lit, it made avoiding monsters a whole lot easier. Not guaranteed, every adventurer had to be aware. The urge to fight would overpower the monsters’ reluctance with direct contact.

There were any number of reasons why a party would want to leave a dungeon rapidly.

“Do we need four potions?” Apexus questioned.

“One per person,” Aclysia answered simply. Before the humanoid chimera could elaborate on his question, the white-haired healer added, “For the sake of easing my mind, darling.”

Apexus just nodded and the guardian angel gave him a pleased smile. Then, wide hips swinging, she led the party into the part of the market where the individual stalls stood. Both Healing Potions and Stink Bags were sold by alchemists. The Warding Glyph was typically found with metal workers.

The reward for their last Quest had been 25 Platin. That, combined with the over 30 Gold they still had from their previous haul, put the group firmly above their usual standard of living. Even with that much money in Aclysia’s pocket, looking at the prices of consumables was daunting. Selling to adventurers was popular because it was lucrative.

4 Healing Potions immediately made them 4 Platin poorer. Lesser quality potions would have only cost them 1 Gold each, but those were recommended for levels 1-15. As the vitality of adventurers rose with their level, so too did the materials and skill required to make potions to notably recover that vitality. At least the vials were free.

The Stink Bag was expensive not because of those factors but because of the demand for it. 5 Platin coins for a single bag. It was a hefty price, but at least one such bag burned for 48 hours straight. It could not be put out once it had been ignited. The bag itself was made from a waxy paper-like material, with a singular hole at the top.

The Warding Glyph they bought last. Visually, it was a singular glyph carved into a piece of metal slag. Because of the materials that had gone into that refuse, it was rich in mana. Slag from adventurer forges was often used as the medium for glyphs. Once activated, it would adhere to whatever armour it was slapped onto. Then, depending on the stress put onto it, the extra defences would last for anywhere between ten seconds and five minutes.

The Warding Glyph cost them a mere 5 Gold.

“We still have 16 Platin and 25 Gold,” Aclysia remarked afterwards. Closing her eyes, she went through all of the additional things they had talked about the day before. “I would like to buy a second Stink Bag just to be certain. A Mana Potion would also be wise. Do you insist on poison?”

“It could come in pretty clutch,” Reysha answered.

Aclysia hummed again, ran some numbers in her head, and then offered a suggestion. “The market rate for a Mana Potion is 5 Platin. With that in mind, my suggestion would be to allow me to buy such. Of the remaining 11 Platin, I would give you, Reysha, Korith, 3 each to spend on Consumables as you see fit. The remaining 5 will-“ Aclysia saw Korith open her mouth and spoke a little louder to prevent the interruption. “-NOT be given to Hoard.”

“…Cheapskate…” the kobold grumbled. “Fine, sounds good. Why isn’t Apexus getting anything?”

“I would not want it,” the Monk answered simply. “My body is my weapon.”

Apexus was not one to like using items to begin with. A character trait he shared with most Monks. The control and frugality that the Class’ teaching espoused naturally reinforced a preference for self-reliance.

They spread out through the market after the money had been split. Aclysia went to get her Mana Potion at market price. Because the materials that went into it included a ground-down Mana Gem, it was that much more expensive than even Healing Potions.

Reysha found a store for sneaky goods. First, she got herself a large container of Paralyzing Poison. The flat bottle it came in was designed for the quick dipping of throwing knives and average-sized daggers. The poison was rapidly acting and only required a small amount to activate. The drawback was that it did not last for even a short duration. In combat, taking one enemy out for a few seconds could be vital though and repeated exposure was possible.

Having a whole coin left after that, Reysha also treated herself to a Trap Glyph of the Adhesive variety. Once activated, the Glyph would remain where it had been placed on the ground. Whatever next touched the top of it would be rooted in place for about thirty seconds, unless physical effort exhausted the magic faster. Trap Glyphs were difficult to use competently since allies could also trigger them. Reysha wanted to at least try.

For her part, Korith bought 5 Favour Papers. Such papers were typically bought by Paladins, Priests, and other divinely attuned Classes. When praying with such a paper in hand the item would burn up and grant the person a boon of their god – if that god was feeling generous. She bought a second Warding Glyph after, to have something more to show for her shopping.

“Really?” Reysha asked. “That’s what you bought?”

“They’re important!” Korith squeaked and stretched to get the Favour Papers back from the redhead.

“You’ll have to jump for them,” Reysha teased.

“They might tear! I’m heavy!”

“That you are.”

“I… urgh! Gimme!” Korith gingerly grabbed the Favour Papers once they were in her range again. “I didn’t even think they would have these here, you should be thankful!”

“Thankful that you can burn money for your scam god?”

“I’ll show you scam god!” Korith waved around with the gold-glittering papers. “Listen here! What do you think a Favour Paper does for one such as I, who works for the Hoard?”

“Make everyone around you poorer?” Reysha kept on teasing.

Korith pouted, put the papers away, and then just walked away. It was not a big distance she could cross, being back in their Mobile Estate, but being across the room communicated the point.

Reysha blinked a couple of times. “What? What does it do?”

“I’m not telling you, you big mean cat!” the kobold shouted back.

“Ya can’t tease me like that, that’s illegal!” the redhead stated. “Korith! Korith, I’m sorry!” Crossing her arms, the blonde puffed up her cheeks and demonstrably looked away. “Come ooooon;” Reysha whined and crawled after the kobold. “This is gonna kill me!”

Apexus laughed to himself. “Curiosity is killing the tiger.”

“Please… pruddy please? I’ll bew aw gawd gawl if yaw tell meow?”

“Just for using that voice, I demand you do not tell her,” the Monk weighed into the talk again.

“You can’t have me suffer for my actions!” Reysha cried.

Aclysia stirred their dinner with a smile on her face. It was nice for them all to be lively. “Are you certain we will have a return on that investment?” she posed a simple question.

“Yes!” Korith assured.

“But hoooow thooooooo?!” Reysha groaned.

She would not receive an answer.